One-Punch Man World, Z-City Police Station
Jordan adjusted his collar in the station lobby mirror, straightening the dark fabric until everything sat just right.
Dark hair. Blue eyes. Nearly two meters of muscle packed into a regulation uniform. The police badge caught the fluorescent light as he turned, examining himself from different angles. Not bad for a transmigrator's second chance at life.
The memories had finally settled—one month of gradual fusion between his old soul and this new body. His predecessor had been a rookie patrolman, bottom of the ladder, fresh out of the academy. Now Jordan wore that life like a well-fitted jacket.
But he'd brought something with him through the dimensional barrier.
His Stand.
Fantasy Cards.
Blue flames flickered to life around his right hand—visible only to him, spiritual energy made manifest. The Stand materialized as a deck of pitch-black cards, each one etched with a cosmic galaxy pattern on the back. Reality rippled at the edges of his perception.
The ability was specific: give anything the conceptual weight of a "card," seal it, then wield the power contained within. Weird? Absolutely. Weak compared to punching ghosts like Star Platinum? Probably. But Jordan had learned to work with what he had.
A month ago, something had changed. The moment his soul and body fully synchronized, Fantasy Cards awakened a second ability.
Fate Draw: One random card pull per day. Draws accumulate if unused.
Jordan's lips curved into a grin. His Stand's base stats might be trash—E-rank destructive power, E-rank speed—but that growth potential? That was A-rank, baby. He was one god-tier pull away from breaking this world wide open.
On the day Fate Draw activated, the notification had burned itself into his mind: Draw Count +1.
He hadn't hesitated.
The memory was still fresh. A blank card had erupted from the deck, engulfed in brilliant blue flames—his Stand's spiritual fire. The card spun in the air as the flames burned away the emptiness, and when they faded, purple light flared around the edges.
SR-rank.
A red-and-blue spider emblem gleamed on the card's surface.
[Fantasy Card: Spider-Sense]
Type: Ability • Rarity: SR
Spider-Man's signature superpower, also known as "Peter Tingle."
Effects:
Danger Prediction: Heightened adrenaline response warns of threats through physical sensations—tingling at the base of the skull, goosebumps, full-body alarm bells
Spider-Time: Enhanced reflexes, dynamic vision, and perception create a bullet-time effect
Jordan had pressed the card to his chest without thinking twice. It shattered silently, dissolving into countless motes of purple light that flowed into him like iron filings drawn to a magnet.
The world changed.
His five senses exploded into hyperfocus. Every sound crystallized—the hum of the AC unit, footsteps three rooms over, someone's coffee maker gurgling in the break room. Colors became richer. His skin registered the microscopic shift in air pressure as someone walked past the building outside.
For the first time in either of his lives, Jordan understood what "extraordinary" really meant.
That had been a week ago. Seven days of exploration, practice, pushing the boundaries of what Fantasy Cards could do. Seven more card draws accumulating, waiting for the right moment.
He was getting good at this.
Jordan clocked in, grabbed his standard equipment—baton, radio, the works—and headed out. The moment he cleared the station doors, he ducked into the alley beside the building.
Time to commute.
He raised his right hand, palm open. Blue flames erupted along his arm—invisible to anyone without Stand sight. From Jordan's perspective, the spiritual fire wrapped around him like living ribbons, and a white-bordered card materialized in the air.
From a normal person's perspective, a tall cop in uniform stood in an alley with one hand on his cap brim, the other raised dramatically to the sky. Probably looked ridiculous. He didn't care.
[Fantasy Card: Mini Police Motorcycle]
Type: Item • Rarity: N
Standard-issue small vehicle. Street name: "scooter."
Effects:
Launch Start: Low fuel consumption, aggressive acceleration, surprisingly fast for its size
Fuel Display: Remaining fuel: 68%
Jordan plucked the card from the air. It shattered in a burst of cheap visual effects—seriously, the five-cent-special-effects budget on this ability was embarrassing—and the motorcycle materialized in front of him with a low rumble.
He kicked up the stand and swung his leg over the seat. The engine purred.
"Let's go."
The scooter launched forward, carrying him toward his patrol route through Z-City's streets.
Stand: Fantasy Cards
Destructive Power: E | Speed: E | Precision: C
Range: C | Durability: A | Growth Potential: A
Ability 1 — Card Mastery:
Give anything the conceptual framework of a "card," create fantasy cards, and control the power sealed within them.
Ability 2 — Fate Draw:
Draw one random fantasy card per day. Draws accumulate if unused.
Note: C-rank parameters equivalent to average human capability.
The city blurred past as Jordan navigated morning traffic. His thoughts drifted.
After countless global catastrophes, the survivors in this world had reorganized under a unified government. Cities were now designated by letters. Z-City—where Saitama, the bald caped baldy, currently resided—was Jordan's new home.
Weirdos and heroes, Jordan thought, weaving around a taxi. What a world.
"Mysterious Beings"—that's what this world called them. Dangerous creatures born from unknown phenomena, wreaking havoc on human society. The government classified them into five disaster levels based on threat potential:
Wolf: A dangerous individual or group
Tiger: Threat of significant casualties in a localized area
Demon: Threat of a town's destruction or complete dysfunction
Dragon: Threat capable of destroying multiple cities
God: Extinction-level threat to humanity
And then there were the heroes.
Jordan had seen the news broadcast a few months back. Some rich guy with a chin like a butt—Agni, supposedly—announced he'd personally fund a new organization after his grandson got attacked by a Mysterious Being. Dedicated to eliminating monsters and protecting civilians.
He'd called it the "Hero Association."
Three months and an ungodly amount of money later, the organization had exploded across the country. Branches in every major city. Recruitment drives for powerful individuals. The media couldn't get enough of it.
The age of professional heroes had begun.
And Jordan? He was just a cop on a scooter, carrying a Stand that ran on gacha mechanics, trying not to get killed before he pulled something good.
Typical isekai luck, he thought with a wry smile.
The radio crackled to life on his belt. Dispatch, calling in the day's assignment.
Jordan turned the throttle and accelerated into Z-City's morning chaos, ready for whatever weirdness came next.